


A Nightmare

by felandaris



Series: Caboodles and Chantry Boys [4]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Desire Demons, Desire!Alistair, Desire!Cullen, Double Penetration, F/M, M/M, Nightmare, Threesome - F/M/M, some violence towards the end
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-22
Updated: 2015-09-22
Packaged: 2018-04-22 22:51:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4853585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/felandaris/pseuds/felandaris
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Trevelyan encounters her chantry boys in the Fade.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Nightmare

**Author's Note:**

  * For [OblivionScribe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/OblivionScribe/gifts).



> For the multi-talented oblivionscribe, who also created the sinfully hot [art](http://oblivionscribe.tumblr.com/post/129660596837/scribeys-100-follower-drawing-nsfw). Check her out on AO3 and [Tumblr](http://oblivionscribe.tumblr.com)!  
> 

Darkness. Broken up after a few wobbly steps. An amber glow, faint but growing as she follows it.

 

The end of a tunnel, broadening into an open landscape- a plains, flat and dusty, its edges blurred out in fog, mysterious but alluring. Gravel becomes soil under her bare feet. _Is this the Fade?_

 

A gentle chill grazes her skin. She should feel fear, dread, should turn back. But she does neither. Instead she keeps walking, drawn in by a dimly purple glow wafting along the trail; by her own curiosity; and by the yet-distant sound of familiar voices. Laughing. Mumbling. Moaning.

 

Around a bend, past an array of exotic, otherworldly plants.

 

There they are.

 

Barefooted. Clad in loincloths that barely cover what she knows is beckoning from underneath, heavy and ripe. Necks adorned by heavy necklaces sparkling with gemstones of all colours. Tiny nipples pinched by crescent shaped clamps, connected by rows of slim chains.

 

They’re kissing. Open-mouthed. Tongues caressing, slick and enticing. Slender hands roaming across perfectly sculpted bodies, kneading round buttocks through flimsy fabric. Ruffling each other’s hair. So engrossed in each other they don't notice her. _Or pretend not to._

 

She swallows, hit by a sudden and acute awareness of only wearing her nightdress.

 

Then Alistair turns towards her, crooking a finger. Mouth still hanging open in silent _o_ from their kiss, swollen bottom lip sticking out in luscious invitation.

 

Cullen’s eyes follow his, lock with hers. His arm remains wrapped around Alistair, head leaning onto his shoulder. Free hand stroking the taut expanse of Alistair’s stomach. He tugs at a dainty nipple chain, his familiar smirk bidding her closer.

 

Her feet move on their own accord, carrying her to stand between them. Shaky breath comes heavy as she takes them in. The sallow, _iridescent_ glow to their skin; sleek hair; dark eyes, pupils that are blown wide with lust (a _nd something else?)_ The thought remains incomplete as strong arms pull her in. _Cool_ , _hairless_ _skin_ rubs against hers. Cullen’s fingertips, _so soft_ , brush along her lips before he claims them in a kiss- deep, slow and mind-numbing.

 

The second his syrupy sweet tongue meets hers reason evades her. Thought becomes instinct, her heartbeat a rhythmic pulse between her legs- where another familiar hand is wandering now, pulling down her smalls. Alistair’s touch brings _a pleasant chill_ around her button, little circles that make her push up into his hand.

 

Leaning back into Cullen’s embrace, she sighs as broad hands push her gown up her torso, then over her head and arms in a single, swift motion. _And her smalls are gone too, as are their loincloths_. Goosebumps erupt all over her skin; from the exposure, from their stares.

 

She groans, surprised at the high pitch of her voice, blindly grasping for what she knows can remedy her need. Alistair’s hands find her bosom first, giving a playful squeeze before his plump lips latch onto a waiting breast. She gasps at the _chilly_ suction, bucks up when two fingers slide into her, gathering juice to swirl around her aching bundle.

 

Cullen bites at her exposed neck, licks his way up to her ear and whispers words she can’t understand through the lustful _haze_. All that matters is the way their bodies, their touch speak to her, in a language as old as sin itself.

 

Her yelp rings wanton, shock and delight, when she’s hoisted up, her legs wrapping around Alistair’s waist. A rub of his nose, a brush of his lips as he swirls his length around where she’s wet and ready for him.

 

Wide palms, _too smooth_ , grab at her bosom from behind, holding her in place as Alistair’s hips roll forward to fill, stretch, claim her. She barely has time to howl out her pleasure as another _cold_ digit is suddenly circling her other entrance; drawing closer, making her tense up in lewd anticipation.

 

Then the air leaves her lungs as Cullen simply pushes inside her, _with the greatest of ease_ , a fluid and effortless glide. For a moment they stand still, only their chests moving, heaving with softly _echoing_ breaths.

 

When they start moving, throaty half-words spill from her lips as her lovers, god-like in their grace, thrust into her; a constant in and out, up and down, all while they’re still standing in this curious, cold desert.

 

She moans, writhes, begs for more. Is shushed, caressed, kissed. Eventually her bundle is grazed with the touch of merciful fingers. Alistair’s touch sends a spark of electricity shooting through her, a lightning bolt of pleasure, _almost pain_ , that she’s never felt before.

 

Her brow pinches, incredulous eyes widen as she quakes, screams, clenches, drawing both their peaks from them. And they spill cold and sharp, spend hitting her insides and she stops, gasps at the rush of acid, of its poisonous burn. Stinging her, gnawing at skin, searing flesh. She wants to scream but is choked by Alistair’s tongue shoving into her mouth. More foulness inside her, pouring down her palate, corroding her throat, dissolving her f r o m   i n s i d e.

 

Decay rises around her- the smell of her own body rotting. A silent cry, and all she hears is their laughs; hollow echoes, shrill and evil. The grin of a distorted, demonic face; dark abyss of a mouth widening, ready to swallow up what’s left of her body, her soul. A pair of horns, emerging from under the guise of ginger hair, is the last thing she sees before her end.

 

 

 

 

Trevelyan startles awake, sitting up in a jolt of panic. The first thing she notices is darkness, then her racing heartbeat. A frown creeps across her yet-sleepy features when fragments of dream rouse her drowsy mind. She looks around the bed, her pulse slowing and chest warming when she spots them.

 

Cullen is on his side, mouth hanging open, naked form relaxed in deep sleep. Perhaps in the course of his own dreams Alistair ended up behind him, cuddled up against him with an arm dangling over Cullen’s stomach.

 

She bites lip at the sudden wave of affection surging through her. Unable to stifle a quiet chuckle at their whimsically peaceful sight, she shuffles to snuggle up against Cullen. Pulling the cover over the three of them, she presses a careful kiss on each of their warm foreheads before drifting off into a dreamless slumber.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!  
> [Find me (and the boys) on Tumblr!](https://http://cullenstairshenanigans.t%20Tumblr.com) ʘ‿ʘ


End file.
